John Watson and the Case of the Birthday Present
by luffyluffy
Summary: It's Sherlock's birthday tomorrow, but Mycroft doesn't have to time to buy him a gift. So he puts John on the case of buying Sherlock a fantastic present for his birthday.


_…And so ends the case of the missing jewels._

Watson ran the post through spell check and grammar check, before submitting it to his blog. He grabbed his warm mug of tea and sipped it, scrolling down with the arrow keys as he reread his blog post for the third or fourth time. Then his phone beeped, and when he quickly grabbed it up. The screen read _Mycroft_ and Watson scowled. Sherlock was enough trouble, but Mycroft calling on him usually licked the icing off the trouble flavored cake, never mind the fact that he _still_ hasn't found out how Mycroft found his number, though he had a very good idea. He checked the text, and it read quite clearly: _Sherlock's birthday tomorrow, unable to buy gift, please buy one for him, will pay you back later._ Watson rolled his eyes, as it seemed Mycroft had yet another dental appointment. He sighed and checked the time: 2:30. Sherlock was due back to return from the hospital at 3. Perhaps he should leave now.. he sipped his tea slowly. _Ah well,_ He thought _No reason to waste perfectly good tea._

In a big show of lazily wasting time, Watson paraded around the house, cup of tea in one hand, other hand rifling though through books and papers that littered the flat he and Sherlock shared. But this mug did not refill itself, and soon it was dry. So next, Watson made a gigantic show of washing and drying the mug, but that too was soon finished. So now he was simply sitting on the couch. The time read 2:45 and Watson finally decided to get up and buy Sherlock that damned present. He grabbed his coat and then quickly walked out of the out of 221B.

John looked up and down the street, getting his bearings, before briskly running off towards the nearest Tesco. Inside the brightly lit store, Watson slipped into the toy aisles. He looked everything up and down. They actually had a pretty nice selection, everything from Legos to small go carts. Watson routed around, before suddenly spying something. It was a classic 3x3 Rubik's cube, all wrapped in plastic. A sticker on the package even said "UNSOLVEABLE!" and "KEEP YOUR KIDS OCCUPIED FOR HOURS!" in bright white letters. It made Watson smile devilishly. He quickly grabbed it, and then paid; taking a leisurely jog back to 221B knowing Sherlock would hopefully really like this gift, or at least be stumped by it.

Sherlock walked in, pulling his scarf and coat off and leaving them haphazardly on the coat rack by the front door. Watson was on the arm chair, watching crap telly and eating carrots. As Sherlock walked in, Watson gave him a nod, and waited for Sherlock to notice.

And Sherlock did notice, because he was Sherlock Holmes for Christ's sake. Also, it wasn't that hard to notice a brightly wrapped present. He lifted it up and felt it, paper crinkling beneath his hands. It was light blue, and the wrapping paper was decorated with adorable dancing Santas; fat and jolly and hohohoing. There was a bow on it too, bright shimmery gold, and a card with _Sherlock_ written on it in small conservative letters. Sherlock turned to John.

"John, what is this?" he held the package up. John pointed at it with a carrot. "Oh, Mycroft texted and said your birthday was tomorrow, he wanted me to get you a gift. Sorry about the Christmas paper, it was all Mrs. Hudson had." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You shouldn't have John. And I'm not saying that to be nice. What's the point behind birthdays? If I wanted a day filled with people giving me gifts, I would have done something to deserve it." He sat down on the couch and ripped off the card. "I had totally forgotten mine and I would have continued to not remember except that every year on the same day Mycroft insists on giving me pointless gifts he thinks are funny." It was simply write, again in John's army doctor handwriting. Clear, concise, and to the point, it read: _Happy birthday Sherlock. From John & Mycroft. _Sherlock rolled his eyes and tossed the card behind him. "He's always giving me these rubbish books he thinks are funny. Last year I got _Deductions for Dummies_." He turned the gift over and over, trying to scope out exactly what it was. "What did you get me anyway John?" Watson sighed and rolled his eyes, deadpanning. "I thought birthdays didn't matter to you." He crunched on a carrot.

Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "There is no getting through to you is there…" Then, he ripped the paper off, revealing the puzzle cube. He stared at the packaging dumbfounded, then he looked up. "A _Rubik's Cube_ John? A Rubik's Cube of all things?" Watson stared at him. "What's wrong with it?" Sherlock sighed, ripping the package open and playing with it. It was already jumbled, but it wouldn't be too hard to solve. "John, we've been living together for how many months, and you still don't know. . ." He studied it intensely for a moment, before setting it down. "Simple." He said plainly. Watson gave him a look. "You're kidding me. The package said unsolvable, you couldn't have solved it just by looking at it. Even you aren't that good." Sherlock sighed and shook his head, before picking it you. "It's a pattern. You simply repeat the same thing over and over. A turn to the left." He twisted it as he talked, demonstrating. "A twist to the right. Down, up, spin, twist." He did this over and over, and then within a matter of minutes, the completed cube was tossed into Watson's lap, where it ridiculed him thoroughly. Sherlock pulled on his hair, raking it with long pale fingers. "Really John, you couldn't have expected a simple children's toy to confuse me, that would be too juvenile." Sherlock grabbed a newspaper and began to scan it. Watson frowned and stood up, placing the cube on the table with a slam. He gave Sherlock an annoyed look before stuffing another carrot into his mouth. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." Sherlock didn't make any movement of acknowledgement, but merely said. "Mouth closed when you chew John, don't want to be picking rabbits out of the carpets in a few weeks."

Watson stormed angrily up the stairs, but soon the sound of that eventually faded. Sherlock looked up over his paper, which he wasn't actually reading, but merely using to give the semblance of readership. He stood and walked over to the cube, before picking it up. He examined it slowly, before closing his eyes and jumbling it up. Then, with a smile at his work, he placed it gently next to his skull.


End file.
